


The Lonely Moments Just Get Lonelier The Longer You're In Love

by elfofthedarkside



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, During hiatus, Established previous relationship, Fluff? i guess?, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Nothing too explicit, Song Fic Kinda, Well - Freeform, dont worry it ends happy, end of hiatus, house of memories by panic! at the disco, my boys need hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfofthedarkside/pseuds/elfofthedarkside
Summary: During hiatus. Pete longs for Patrick's touch once more. Patrick needs Pete's warmth again. Will they be able to summon the courage to finally see each other after all this time?





	The Lonely Moments Just Get Lonelier The Longer You're In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I've been using House of Memories as my alarm sound in the mornings and today it just kind of spiraled and turned into this. It got to the point where I could see the scenes happening as I listened to it. So here you go.  
> Lyrics from "House of Memories" by Panic! at the Disco and "What a Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy

If you're a lover, you should know

The lonely moments just get lonelier the longer you're in love

Than if you were alone

Memories turn into daydreams

Become a taboo

-

Pete was tired. Given that he had slept maybe three hours altogether the past couple days, it shouldn't have been surprising. He found himself lying awake at night, unable to quiet his head.

It wasn't nightmares. Pete might have actually enjoyed the respite nightmares would give. No. His thoughts were occupied by the one man who could keep him sane. The one man he loved with all his heart. The one man he hadn't seen in three years.

He knew it wasn't healthy. His chest ached with the very idea of Patrick. Patrick smiling. Patrick singing. Patrick's familiar weight on his own body. Patrick's voice as he moaned, high and loud. Patrick's warm breath against his neck as he slept. Some were memories. Some were fantasies. But all were painful.

God, had it really been three years?

-

I don't want to be afraid the deeper that I go

It takes my breath away; soft hearts, electric souls

Heart-to-heart and eyes-to-eyes

Is this taboo?

-

His body responded to the idea of Patrick as if they had touched only yesterday. He remembered every press and give, every whine and gasp, every touch and caress, and tried once again to fruitlessly recreate the feeling. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to his nostalgia-blinded dreams of Patrick, sighing heavily with both relief and disappointment as he came down from his high moments later.

It would never be the same. Only Patrick could make him come so perfectly undone. Only Patrick.

His mind, orgasm-drunk, reminded him he could still see him. All he had to do was turn on his laptop. Pete hated the idea normally. But maybe the complete loneliness had finally broken him down.

-

Baby, we built this house on memories

Take my picture now, shake it till you see it

And when your fantasies become your legacy

Promise me a place in your house of memories

-

Pete felt his heart swell with pride as he watched Patrick onstage, smiling and dancing and singing like he was the happiest man on earth. That pride was soon soured by the thought that _he's happier without you._

_Stop._

He swallowed, shaking his head. He turned the volume louder, then shut his eyes and tried to pretend Patrick's voice was singing only for him. It wasn't convincing, but at least his mind recognized Patrick as something calming and safe. Something like home.

Slowly, the noise in his head quieted until Pete was falling into a deep sleep, his body curled up next to the laptop as Patrick crooned in those tones that never failed to make Pete feel...

-

I think of you from time-to-time

More than I thought I would

You were just too kind

And I was too young to know

That's all that really matters

I was a fool

-

Patrick was tired. He felt empty. Like part of him was missing. Granted, he had been feeling like this for three years now. But somehow, tonight it all became so much worse.

His mind drifted to Pete. Of course. It always did. He tried to remember those calloused fingertips tracing his flesh, those dark eyes growing even darker as they appraised him, those inked arms that drew him close. The scent of sweat and cheap-smelling yet somehow expensive cologne, the warmth of skin against bare skin, the press of lips to neck. He tried. But all he could remember were those words spoken-shouted?-as Pete literally and figuratively walked away from him.

The bite of those words somehow still stung the inside of his mouth. They left a bad taste, like blood and oil and all the bitterness of his temper. He squeezed his eyes shut as he collapsed against the pillow. How could he have done that to his best friend? His band mate? His lover...?

For all his faults, Pete was always the better of the pair. Patrick was too quick to lashing out, and too late to apologize. But Pete. Pete was perfect. Forgiving and kind and incredible.

-

Baby, we built this house on memories

Take my picture now, shake it till you see it

And when your fantasies become your legacy

Promise me a place in your house of memories

-

Well. Not anymore.

And even though he knows he can never make up for the things he had said, he wishes he could have a second chance. Patrick wants desperately to see him again. To feel him again. To taste him again. Perhaps that would fix it. Pete's tongue sliding against his own would be enough to mask the horrid taste of his mistakes.

He rolled over, gaze falling onto his phone. Just the tap of a button, and he could hear Pete's voice again. But could he handle that?

_I can't handle not having it any longer._

Would Pete want that?

The thought bubbles up unbidden, as it always did when Patrick was thinking of Pete. He would never take Patrick back. Why should he?

He finds his hand closing around the phone anyways, unlocking and scrolling through his list of contacts. He selects Pete, only to look at the picture. That's all. His thumb hovers over the call button.

_Could I?_

_Should I?_

He grits his teeth, heart pounding.

He turns the phone off, shoving into his pocket and grabbing his hat off of the bedside table before throwing his belongings into his suitcase and racing out the door.

-

Those thoughts of past lovers will always haunt me

I wish I could believe you'd never wrong me

And will you remember me in the same way

As I remember you?

-

Pete awoke hours later, though it was still dark outside, heart racing. He saw- saw Patrick? He stood and walked to the bathroom, taking gulps of the cold water as he calmed himself.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

Did it have to be?

He found himself picking up his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart. He knew this would just end up as another one of his self-destructive impulses. He didn't care.

His chest clenched painfully as he heard it ringing. Once. Twice. Three times. Four-

-

Baby, we built this house on memories

Take my picture now, shake it till you see it

And when your fantasies become your legacy

Promise me a place...

-

_"Pete?"_

The pain in his chest bloomed into an uncontrollable longing. He struggled not to sob into the receiver.

"Um... hi, Patrick."

Patrick sounded distracted, the sounds of light street traffic echoing in the background. _"Hi."_

Pete wasn't sure what to say. I miss you? I forgive you? I love-

_"Hey, Pete..."_

"Y- yeah?"

The sound of a car being shut off. Footsteps. _"I, uh."_ Nervous pause. _"Geez. I should have called ahead. Are- are you home?"_

Pete's reply was cut off by the sound of a knock at his front door. He pressed the phone harder to his ear as he went to check. "Yeah. Why-?"

He nearly dropped his phone when he saw who stood just outside. He yanked the door open frantically, unable to do anything else but stare.

"I'm, uh," Patrick quirked a half grin that lit a fire inside Pete. "I'm at your house and was hoping to see you."

Pete remembered to breath. He shut off his phone, lower lip trembling. "Patrick...?"

Patrick had a determined look in his eyes. "There's a million things I need to say. A- and I've been running them through my head all day."

"Yeah?" Pete whispered, the words _yes, yes, I'm sorry, I forgive you, I need you_ ready to come tumbling out of his mouth.

"But there's something else I need to do first."

And without another word, Patrick grabbed fistfuls of Pete's old t-shirt he had slept in; pushing the door closed behind him and pressing Pete against it with his hands, his chest, his mouth.

-

Baby, we built this house on memories

Take my picture now, shake it till you see it

And when your fantasies become your legacy

Promise me a place in your house of memories

-

Pete kissed back, desiring, needing, begging for every touch and emotion. He felt tears prickling at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. _Save it for later. Patrick is here, and he wants you, wants this._

Patrick's tongue swiped against Pete's lips before slowly pressing inside, eager to taste everything he had missed. Pete moved in perfect harmony, exhaling as he tilted his head back to take more of Patrick in. He brought his hands up around Patrick's waist, curling them into fists and pulling Patrick closer, deeper, more, _please_.

He must have said that last part out loud, because Patrick started huffing a small laugh into his mouth. "God, if I didn't feel the same way I'd be calling you desperate." His whispered voice sent shivers down Pete's spine.

"I am," Pete gasped. "I am. Need- need this-need you-so bad-"

"I know." Patrick pressed their foreheads together. "We both need this." He pulled away, and Pete's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are y- oh!"

Patrick easily lifted Pete into his arms, carrying him further into the house until they entered the bedroom. "Geez, you weigh nothing," Patrick muttered. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Does it matter?" Pete breathed into the soft skin of Patrick's neck before being carefully laid down on the unmade bed. "I'm gonna be eating you in a minute."

Patrick laughed. A real laugh. The laugh Pete had been dreaming about for years. "I guess it'll have to do for now."

Clothes were thrown away and forgotten as the pair lost themselves in each other's bodies. Gentle kisses and rough bites, softly caressing flesh and intense grabbing, leaving bruises. It was all they both remembered and more. It was no longer frustrating and difficult. Their hands knew exactly what to do, what to touch, how to give. Muscle memory and instinct took over, and they both just rode out the pleasure together.

It was over after what seemed like an eternity, and yet all too quickly. They both laid there, legs still tangled together, breathing heavily in a sheen of sweat and completion. Patrick had his head on Pete's chest, listening to his heartbeat come down as Pete absentmindedly played with his hair.

"I'm sorry."

Pete felt the words vibrate against his skin, and that pain in his chest returned. "Patrick..."

"I... I know not all of this was my fault. But if- if I hadn't been- we could have- all this time-"

"It's okay." And Pete meant it. He had forgiven Patrick long ago. He was just too scared to assume Patrick might feel the same way.

"It's not," Patrick insisted.

"Look, what happened happened." Pete leaned down to plant a kiss on the soft bleached hair. "But that's over. We're here now. And if you..." He swallowed. "I know I want to stay like this forever."

"So do I." Patrick shifted, moving so Pete's arm draped around his shoulders. "I love you."

The tears that had been denied earlier came flooding back. "I know. I love you. I love you so much." Pete pressed his lips to Patrick's.

"So much," Patrick repeated.

They stayed there for a while, just feeling the other's closeness. Finally, Pete spoke.

"You..." He paused. "C- could you maybe-"

"Of course," Patrick replied, reading his mind easily. His voice lulled Pete back into sleep until morning.

_"I've got troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match_

_"What a catch... what a catch..."_

-

In your house of memories

Promise me a place...

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know the song isn't exactly about making up but like I wanted them to be happy so sue me.  
> I'm still new to this whole "happy ending" thing. Sorry. I'm too used to everything ending in death and despair. Leave kudos to cure my depression and comment to keep the voices at bay (for both of us).


End file.
